Retrokill
by plug in baby57
Summary: A surreal look at the eventual end of the iCarly team, via a deranged fan. Character deaths abound.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.**

The metal barrel swayed gently on the surface of the ocean. Inside the barrel was a girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was called Sam Puckett and had correctly guessed that she was in some sort of afterlife. She had no idea why the afterlife would appear as a vast ocean, but she could see no other explanation as to why she had not been found, run into land or died yet. The last one was the thing that really gave it away. She had been drifting across this ocean for five hundred and forty nine thousand and eighty one days without a bite to eat nor drop to drink and her only inconvenience was a slightly dry mouth.

She only knew how long it had been because of the pocket watch that was on a chain around her neck that was impossible to remove. It had several fold out faces, each one counting seconds, minutes, hours and days. She had stopped paying attention to all except the day face, since the one and a half thousand years she'd been adrift had changed her perspective of time somewhat. Not to mention the days were the only thing that mattered any more. All she knew about the ocean was that it was better to be out of it and every seven hundred and forty one days a storm came, trying to bring her into the blue embrace. Each time there was something to replace the item she was ripped from to act as a new improvised craft for the next seven hundred and forty one days. She had to work for it though.

Swimming in the sea was hard enough, swimming in a storm was worse. Nevertheless every time the storm came, she pressed on to find her new boat. Sometimes she wondered if she should just let herself be dragged under. All that she ever had to look forward to was seven hundred and forty one days in a barrel, box or upturned umbrella. Of course, sometimes she could remember the time it hand been a dumpster that appeared. That period had been the happiest she'd ever been on this ocean. She had room to move, lay down, jump around and not worry about tipping into the sea if she moved and disturbed the balance.

If she tried even harder she could remember when she had clothes and possessions. She still had possessions in her watch and whatever was acting as her raft, but once upon a time she had a wallet, key chain and pearpod to keep her somewhat amused, although the pearpod's battery didn't last that long. All those had been lost when she abandoned her clothes. They got waterlogged easily and impeded her swimming during the storm and she figured she didn't really need them as there was no one to see her and she never felt cold. Well, only on occasion, but that wasn't physical coldness.

Every few thousand days she would see _it_ in the distance, and she would remember what fear felt like. Not the fear of upsetting the barrel's equilibrium or not making it through the storm, those fears drove her on to keep going. This fear was primal, a signal of inevitable death. A small grey triangle peeking out from under the surface of the water, that she knew was definitely a shark. She figured that she was here for eternity, and a place not to spend eternity was inside a shark.

And so she sat, in her a barrel on the seven hundred and forty first day, awaiting night fall and the inevitable storm. It didn't come. Peering over the edge of the barrel when darkness fell she saw it.

A whirlpool, miles wide and inescapable. Tonnes of swirling water, crashing downwards and creating a deafening roar. The centre so deep it appeared only as a spot of darkness fathoms below. An unpleasant death that she was heading towards. She could tell that she had already been caught in the outer currents and would eventually find herself in the centre, her only solace being that the shark and not been near for eight hundred days and she was somewhat sure her journey had come to an end, for better or for worse, she braced herself as her barrel reached the edge of the whirlpool and said her first word for over a thousand years.

"Wow."

--

The next morning a single piece of driftwood floated across the surface of the ocean...

And a naked blonde girl clung to it like a child to their favourite teddy.

She was astounded that she'd made it. The powerful whirlpool had flung her from the barrel into it's deadly grasp and as she flew she saw it. A large piece of driftwood caught in the flow. It was probably going to be as bad as that upturned umbrella but she didn't have much choice. First chance she got she grabbed that wood and refused to let go.

After a few days with the drift wood she realised why a whirlpool had replaced the usual storm. It had been the seven hundredth and forty first scheduled storm. Maybe this afterlife had something for squared numbers. She had to work all that out in her head, but having spent over a millennia alone with nothing but a pocket watch she had spent a lot of time thinking and her mind was as a sharp as a razor.

She held onto that driftwood for another one hundred and four days until she saw _it._ The silhouetted fin in the distance. Except _it_ was still there the next day. And the next. Each day _it_ was a tiny bit bigger, gaining on her. With both arms wrapped around the wood, she did the only thing she could. She kicked, all day and all night trying to propel herself from _it_ but after twenty days _it_ was still gaining. She finally gave up and waited for the shark to rip her from the driftwood.

--

_It_ was one day away from her when something from the old Sam awakened in her, the pre-ocean Sam Puckett. She was the sort of girl that you stayed away from if she was holding a large piece of wood. The shark wouldn't know what hit it, she thought. She was right because sharks don't have brains capable of understanding exactly what wood is but she also found out it's near impossible to kill a shark with a piece of driftwood.

**--A/N--**

**I know I've been gone a while, but to be honest my heart's not really been in it. Don't know why but it happens. I'm struggling to write anything at the moment so don't get your hopes up for any updates too soon. And I've also decided to stop talking about my plans in these author notes because they end up bearing no similarity to what actually happens. So yeah, the title for this is actually something I came up with ages ago. I kept thinking it would be a cool title but couldn't actually think of a plot to go behind it. I couldn't decide what to title this, so I thought fuck it, I'll just use Retrokill.**

**I was inspired by this webcomic, **http://xkcd . com/22/

**And, well, naked Sam in a barrel, why not?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Yeah, it ain't mine.**

The hand held her head down. The other on her back stopped her from moving, pressing her hard into the edge of the tub. Even without the water, the compression of her chest would restrict her breathing. She couldn't think straight. Her arms were ineffectually flailing, she barely had the sense to try reaching the assailant behind her. They'd been waiting in her bathroom. She'd really needed to toilet, wasn't even paying attention and missed them. The baseball bat cracked open the back of her head and the next thing she knew, she was drowning, her bloodied hair swimming around her. An ocean of yellow and scarlet.

It was even more painful just before Sam took that first breath consisting only of water. A fist wrapped in her hair yanks her from her watery death, the other locked around her arm. She'd never been so glad to have air in her lungs. Once the immediate threat of death had been lifted, she realised that her bladder had already emptied itself. The wetness in her shorts was far warmer than anything that splashed from the bathtub.

Her hair was pulled again, this time her neck bent sharply to look upwards to the face of her attacker. Sam had made a few enemies in her time so was surprised that she'd fallen to a crazed stalker. Mandy had never appeared harmful. Really annoying, but harmless. Perhaps she should have been clued in when she, Carly and Freddie had started receiving numerous emails where Mandy proclaimed her love for them in what could only be called a disturbingly perverse way. Growing up had not cured Mandy of her obsession, but added a new side to it.

"We would have been great together, Sam. We could have been the greatest couple in the universe, why didn't you love me?" Mandy said. She was far too calm. Sam always imagined someone who was crazy would shout more, their voice should crack and fluctuate a lot. This was much scarier. She could tell Mandy wouldn't settle for anything less than what she wanted, or Sam's death.

"I..." Sam hesitated. She couldn't believe she was going to say it. "I do love you Mandy." It was close to making her physically sick, Mandy's mind had gone to a dark place and she was ready to wish for the annoying child back. Still, her life was on the line and that was more important than sensibilities right not.

"Really? I don't believe you, prove it." Mandy said, in her continuing monotone. Sam knew this wasn't going to end well.

"How?" Sam asked. From Mandy's emails, Sam guessed she'd want something usually done in the bedroom. Although not particularly inclined to do it with Mandy, she wanted to be far away from the filled bath tub.

"Kiss me,"

It was a simple thing to do. Sam wished it had been anything else just to get out of the bathroom first. Anything sexual and Sam thought she stood a chance, she could easily fake enjoyment there. Kissing was harder. People seemed to have a sixth sense about it, they could tell if you enjoyed it or if you hated it. Mandy's lips pressed to hers and she tried. She put more effort into that kiss than just about anything she'd ever done but it failed.

"See, you don't love me." Sam knew that statement was her death sentence.

With Mandy still holding the arm lock as she pushed Sam back down, Sam was incapable of fighting back. There was no way for her to reach over and punch or grab Mandy effectively. What really struck her was the time it took. Her shorts received more urine as she spent those last minutes thinking. They'd all received emails from Mandy, so Carly and Freddie were probably next. Soon, she knew, there wouldn't be anything she could do about that. She was going to die, she knew it and what worried her now was being alone. Her mom would get back from working the night shift and find her dead. She hoped that at least, then Carly and Freddie would have a chance. If Mandy hid the body, there'd be no police investigation until her mom realised that she was missing. Given the amount of time she spent at Carly's that might be a full week.

Then she had thought of all that she would be missing. Going to college with Carly in New York, it was all planned out, they'd even looked into renting a studio apartment to continue iCarly. She'd worked so hard for the good grades and now she wasn't going to make it. Carly might not even make it. She was going to dye Freddie's shirt pink at the Senior Prom as well, one final prank before they parted ways. Every Tuesday her mom would order a pizza and then for one night a week they acted like a normal family, no talking to the cat, no random violence when she realised that if her mom hadn't started taking heroin at thirteen, they might have been a decent family and not borderline insane.

Somewhere down the line Melanie was going to be a doctor and cure cancer or be a brain surgeon and then people named Puckett would be associated with something worthwhile, not just a list of petty crimes. Despite everything she threw at her sister she still loved her. She was one of the two people who'd ever seen her cry. She was always going to be better than Sam, even beating her out of the womb by ten minutes. But, if she wasn't going to be a doctor, than she'd want her twin to be one because it's nice to think of what could have been.

She wondered if she was crying. It felt like she should be, she was very light headed now, just about everything she saw was diluted blood but it was too wet to tell. Her lungs had been filling up with water for a long time, it felt like an eternity and her final thought was of a girl trying to still another girl's sandwich and feeling what it was like to be stood up to.

**--A/N--**

**I had planned to go straight to a chapter of Carly in the aftelife place, but really that would require a different state of mind. I've been listening to Chopin and it's put me in a sort of melancholy, but usually get's me into a surreal state. So yeah. I had this idea about doing a fic of someone dying from a stomach wound, because it's often fatal but takes a long time as none of the organs are absolutely vital to surviving for five minutes. Then I decided that as a connection the death should match the afterlife, so it should be watery. I decided that Sam would have to be drowned, I couldn't really get much drama from an accidental death, being as tired as I am. It seemed like a lot of work. And I turned Mandy into a psychokiller because she's the only one who I thought might just be capable of filling this role without being completely out of character. You have to a little mental to be a stalker and no one else fits that mould quite so well. I feel it's still very out of character though. Let's just call it growth and see if I can get away with it.**


End file.
